


Circles

by itotoro



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, childhood friends to strangers to ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itotoro/pseuds/itotoro
Summary: Jihyo returns home for the holidays, recalls the way she used to know Im NayeonA study on words and accidental boundaries
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 46
Collections: Girl Group Jukebox - Mixtape Round





	Circles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for GG Jukebox Mixtape Round, inspired by Why We Ever by Hayley Williams

It was a cool fall day when Jihyo returned to her hometown south of the main city. It was a train ride that ended at the south of the Gyeongbu line, followed by a couple of smaller train rides to her hometown neighborhood by the coast. The air smelled of salt and felt dense on her skin; living in the city for as long as she had made the taste of the briny air new on her tongue.

The footsteps to her home were quiet, second only to the footsteps she took leaving for the first time in pursuit of Architecture at the Seoul National University. Though it was late afternoon the streets of her neighborhood were empty of people, different from the vivid memories that played in her mind as she knocked on the gate of her home.

It was a surprise for her to be home this early as there were two, almost three weeks before the Chuseok holidays officially began. Her mother was ecstatic, pulling her inside the home with a tight embrace, trying to roll Jihyo's bulky luggage inside the house. Her father was out until evening, working on a new project by the City Hall, her sisters still at school. It was good that Jihyo came home early, did she not have a new design project rolling up over the week?

Bbuyo was the same as always, gentle as he sniffed her ankle from beneath the low table. Jihyo scooped him from beneath, cradling him. His fur was soft and clean, Bbuyo readily relaxing into her embrace.

"Nayeon is coming home this Chuseok," said her mother as she poured Jihyo a glass of cool water. "Her grandmother is inviting us over for her birthday."

"Oh," said Jihyo.

#

To say that Jihyo remembered her last conversation with Nayeon would be to understate the fact. It sat at the forefront of her dreams and the backseat of her waking hours in the years she spent studying Architecture and in the years that followed. It wove itself into her character, pushed her towards the success that her parents desired for her to achieve.

For the sake of propriety it went something like this: in Jihyo's room, Nayeon in a t-shirt and shorts with her legs raised languidly against the wall, Jihyo an anxious ball on her bedroom chair.

Nayeon had just come home from college and it was exciting. There was an upcoming production and she was in the running for the lead role. The environment was so vibrant, fueled by passion for the craft, and it brought a wide smile to Nayeon's face.

"You'd fit right in" she had said, rolling to one side and facing her. "They could really use some stronger singers."

Jihyo then told her that she was pursuing Architecture in Seoul.

There was a silence that years ago Jihyo would have understood, in the way Nayeon's eyebrows furrowed then set. "Huh," said Nayeon, "but that's all the way in the city." She sat up, her long hair a curtain over her shoulders. "I thought you wanted to be a singer."

Jihyo reasoned. “It’s a prestigious course.”

"Wow," said Nayeon "never thought you'd be the achiever type. Your dad would be proud."

Years later Jihyo would lie in bed at night, thinking about the circle that had wrapped around Nayeon's words, the meaning that it veiled. How she lost the power to see through its true meaning.

"Yeah," Jihyo had said then, because she took what Nayeon said at face value. "Don’t want to repeat high school."

Nayeon had stared at her, then patted her legs before standing up from Jihyo's bed. "Okay," she said, "I mean, your parents would love it if you focused on your grades this time."

"Yeah," said Jihyo. She tried to smile, an awkward stretching of her cheeks. "Dad was pretty disappointed when I didn't make it to the top five."

“Well, good luck.” Nayeon stood up, walked to Jihyo's door before closing it behind her for the last time. That was it.

A day after, Jihyo left for Seoul, stayed five years in Architecture before pursuing a career in the top firm of the city. It made her father proud and her mother excited. That was it.

#

The streets were the same, old mortar in between old bricks that formed old walls over old asphalt. They sprawled around Jihyo's neighborhood, more controlled than she remembered them to be. In the late afternoon the lavender of the sky spilled surreal on the low-rise buildings. 

In the midst of it all, Nayeon's grandmother's house stood tall, the oldest fixture of them all.

Jihyo passed by on the route to her sisters' school. She walked with a measured pace, different from the way she used to run in the exact same street.

In the early years of Jihyo's life she was rambunctious, a bull in a toddler's body. The interesting mix of her mother and father's genes resulted in a child who didn't fit the look of a Busan neighborhood. But Jihyo was a child who wanted to play, and sometimes playing was a lot like fistfighting.

Jihyo's ponytail was half-pulled out of her hair, on her face an assortment of dirt and grass, the moment she met Im Nayeon.

The girl sat on the steps of her grandmother's gate in a blue Sunday dress, hair tied in pigtails. The features of her face were distinctly Korean, thin eyebrows and smaller eyes that flicked between Jihyo and the boy she pummeled on the curbside. In her hand was a cone of ice cream from the vendor who passed by.

Jihyo pushed the boy on the ground for good measure before trotting up to the only other girl in the vicinity. "Hello," she said, "want to play?"

"Do I?" asked Nayeon. She took a bite of her ice cream, the chocolate cone neat despite the summer heat.

Jihyo wiped a grimy hand on her shorts before trying to reach for Nayeon. There was so much hand-eye coordination a small kid could muster, and Nayeon easily dodged her grasp.

"I'm eating first," said Nayeon, "chocolate ice cream. You can go play without me."

Jihyo's eyebrows furrowed. There was something odd about the way Nayeon spoke, as if she were saying two things at once. "Okay." She shifted her tiny legs, plopping herself on the stone steps beside the girl in the blue Sunday dress. "Eat your ice cream so we can play together."

Nayeon smelled of powder. "You won't play?"

Jihyo shook her head, pressing her palms to her knees. "You can eat your ice cream."

It took some time before Nayeon finished her ice cream, parts of it staining her small hands. The other boys on the road gave the two girls a wide berth; nobody was messing with Jihyo after she throttled the biggest one.

"Hurry," said Jihyo, "so we can play."

Nayeon popped the last of the ice cream cone into her mouth, crunching it. "Okay," she said, "let's go play."

Later that day Jihyo tripped on the corner of the street a block away, earning a large scrape on her left knee.

Decades later the spot was still there, and although Jihyo walked carefully her shoe managed to catch in the exact same spot. This time she merely tugged it out of the snag in the road, before continuing on her way.

#

Nayeon had left the country for a Master's degree, Jihyo's mother repeated on the dinner table a week after Jihyo arrived. Nayeon was so successful in her career as an acting coach, Nayeon rubbed shoulders with so many famous celebrities, Nayeon stayed in Spain for two years. When was the last time she talked to Nayeon? They used to be such close friends.

Jihyo chalked it up to distance, diverting life paths. She never tried to stay in touch; neither did Nayeon.

Bbuyo weaved between her legs, no doubt asking for some of the fish from the table. Seoyeon, Jihyo's sister, offered a clump of rice.

The family doorbell rang. Jihyo pushed her chair back, rushing to the door of their house to open the gate.

Nayeon's hair was short and dark brown, and she wore a dark brown blazer that creased at the elbows as she lifted a steaming casserole of codfish. On her face was light makeup that Jihyo swore she used to detest. "Good evening," said Nayeon, her voice less boisterous than expected and her posture too polite to be comfortable. "Grandma asked me to bring this over."

There was a heavy weight between them, tight on Jihyo's lungs. She stood there, felt it. After some time she replied with a cordial greeting, then stepped aside to let Nayeon in.

Nayeon bowed, walking past her to the door of the house. She took the heaviness with her.

When Jihyo entered the home there was the sound of eager chatter. Already Jihyo's mom took the casserole out of Nayeon's hands. Looking wonderful tonight, was she not jet lagged after her flight from Spain? Thank her grandmother for the lovely dish.

Nayeon answered with a chuckle and a reassurance that yes, she was jet lagged so to her the time was still in the afternoon rather than the evening, and she will likely wake up past noon the next day. The whole family should be early for her birthday next week, it has been so long since they last saw each other.

Jihyo had not budged from the doorway, stepping aside when Nayeon excused herself to leave. In the brief moment of proximity Jihyo held her breath, watching as Nayeon closed the gate and left.

"She's so beautiful now," said Jihyo's mother, "I wonder if she has a boyfriend yet."

#

Jihyo was a highschool sophomore when she had her first kiss.

It went something like this: In Nayeon's room, her closet opened with clothes strewn around the floor. Nayeon stood in the midst of the chaos, in her hands two sweaters which she draped against her body. Jihyo, sprawled on Nayeon's bed, half-asleep.

"Don't sleep," said Nayeon, "I'm not done."

Jihyo struggled to lift her head. "You'll look good in the white one."

"Okay, shouldn't you be more excited for me?" Nayeon tossed the white sweater back inside the closet, letting the other sweater fall to the floor. "It's my first date. Ever."

A couple of days ago the most popular boy in Nayeon's batch asked her out to the movies, and was around thirty minutes away from the house. "He's obviously doing it to kiss you," said Jihyo. As most boys would dream of doing.

"We're watching Wreck-it Ralph," said Nayeon. She threw a pair of denim pants straight at Jihyo's face."And besides, I can't imagine it at all."

"But," said Jihyo, smile teasing, "what if he turned to you, then tried to steal a smooch anyway?"

Nayeon's eyebrows furrowed. Clear as day Jihyo eased the meaning out of it, that Nayeon loathed the thought. "I'm gonna slap him like I slapped you in that one skit we did for club."

Jihyo laughed out loud, sitting up on Nayeon's bed. She pulled the duvet around her body. "You could do that. Or fake a fainting spell like those soap operas you love so much."

"Although," said Nayeon, "isn't it a good chance to practice? For club."

Jihyo had come to recognize these kinds of statements as circles. Fueled by pride and the inability to be vulnerable, Nayeon skirted around her true feelings, drew circles around them with her words. "I thought you didn't want to kiss him," said Jihyo.

"For club. I could kiss anyone, really." Taken at face value, it would sound nonchalant, but what Nayeon meant to say was "I want to see what kissing is like."

Jihyo played along. "Then kiss him," she said as she shrugged the duvet off her head. It fell on her shoulders. "For practice."

Nayeon's eyebrows furrowed again. "On the first date, really?"

"Why not? You want to practice, after all."

"I could practice with anyone, really."

"Even me?" Jihyo teased.

Nayeon snorted. "Won't it weird you out? We're practically sisters."

At face value, it was a challenge. But Jihyo recognized Nayeon's curiosity in the way it raised her eyebrows, tilted her head forward. "It won't weird me out if it won't weird you out," grinned Jihyo. "Now take it or leave it, Ms. 'I-want-to-practice'."

Nayeon looked at Jihyo, as if reading her face. "You know what," said Nayeon, "let's do it."

The bed dipped under Nayeon's knees as she moved towards Jihyo. She smelled of laundry. "Last chance to chicken out," she said, grabbing the duvet around Jihyo's shoulders.

"First to let go pays 10,000 won," said Jihyo.

Nayeon squinted.There was a mole on her eyebrow that caught Jihyo's attention before soft lips pressed to her own.

It was a light peck that took her by surprise, gone as soon as it came. Nayeon blinked, staring blankly before leaning in for another kiss.

Nayeon's breath was soft and warm, the kiss lingering. She let go of the duvet, hand tentative on Jihyo's jaw before cradling the back of her neck. There was something in the kiss, but Jihyo could not pinpoint what it was.

Jihyo closed her eyes. There was a strange bubbling deep in her chest, exciting and uncomfortable. Her hands knew something she did not, moving on their own, reaching for Nayeon's face, to pull her closer, deepen the kiss.

Nayeon jerked back at the sound of a sharp knock on her door. "Nayeon," called her grandmother, "there's a boy at the door."

"Drat," said Nayeon. She pushed herself off the bed with a creak, scrambling for the denim pants and the white sweater. "Has it already been thirty minutes?"

"You owe me 10,000 won," said Jihyo. She rubbed her neck where Nayeon had touched it. The bubbling sensation did not settle.

"You promise I look good in these?" Nayeon peeled off her pajamas and T-shirt in the midst of her piles of clothes. "I don't want to ruin my rep."

Jihyo had seen Nayeon naked before, but something had changed. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, mind distracted. She hid herself under Nayeon's duvet. "You won't".

Nayeon pulled the duvet down. "There's food downstairs, grandma made it." The white sweater and the denim jeans fit her well.

Jihyo searched Nayeon's expression. Was she not feeling the same weird sensation? "Is it tteokbokki?"

"With extra cheese on top," said Nayeon. "Don't get weird, or I won't pay you 10,000 won."

That was a sentence inside a circle, but something odd happened. For the first time in years, Jihyo did not know what Nayeon meant to say. Instead she nodded, "I won't."

"Good," said Nayeon. She draped the duvet over Jihyo's face. "See you later!"

Later that day Nayeon regaled a long tale about how the boy managed to spill a whole cup of coke on her sweater. Jihyo could not listen as carefully as she used to; there was a bubbling feeling in her chest that grew stronger with each moment, refusing to settle even as she went home that evening.

Nayeon did not mention the kiss at all the next day. Or the day after.

#

Jihyo's mother had invited Nayeon over for dessert.

It was the third time that she had brought over a casserole in the two weeks since she arrived. Spurred by motherly fondness and a freezer overflowing with ice cream, Jihyo's mom began an impromptu movie night featuring Seoyeon's hard drive. It has been so long, after all, since they all spent time together.

Nayeon agreed, sitting on the couch of the common room. Back in the day it was as if she lived there, joining them almost every night for late shows. Her grandmother would joke that Jihyo made for a better granddaughter. Despite the late night Nayeon wore a full face of makeup, carried herself with the poise of a model straight from a magazine.

Opposite her Jihyo sat by the common room table, with a mug of ice cream in her hands. In the air hung a heaviness Jihyo could not recognize.

Seoyeon was squatting at the front of the TV, tossing suggestions to her father by the armchair. Not action for tonight, there was a commotion at work and he was looking for something more soothing. No mood for melodramas either. Finally the two of them settled on a musical, "Rent."

The opening notes of "Seasons of Love" sat uneasy in Jihyo's stomach. During Nayeon's senior year their club had done a short performance to encourage students to join, with Nayeon at the helm of the flash mob.

Jihyo and Nayeon were walking up the stairs of their school building, carrying in boxes the props of the flash mob. It had been weeks since they kissed, and not a word about it had been said between them.

Something had shifted since then; Jihyo's natural read of Nayeon's true emotions had become derailed by the anxious bubbling in her chest. As they walked beside each other the bubbling in her chest grew heavy and harsh until she could bear it no longer.

Jihyo blurted something out. "Did something change between us?"

Nayeon had looked at her, eyes the widest they've ever been, and yet Jihyo did not know what it meant.

The older girl shot down the question. "Nothing changed. Don't be weird." She then picked up her pace, leather shoes clacking on the hallway tiles as she left Jihyo behind.

The circle around Nayeon's words grew in size, hit Jihyo with the force of a car crash. It fell on her cold and harsh, settled heavily in her chest.

Nayeon had pushed her away. And there was no way for Jihyo to know why.

Later that evening Nayeon dropped by with a pint of chocolate ice cream, furrowed eyebrows revealing nothing to Jihyo.

Watching Rent with Nayeon across the room was salt in a festering wound, and Jihyo did not know why.

"It’s a good musical,” said Nayeon, reaching a hand down to pet Bbuyo. The mug of chocolate ice cream in her hands sat untouched.

Jihyo stayed silent.

#

Jihyo had been forced by her mother to bring a whole box of oranges to the Im household as thanks for the casseroles of the past weeks. It was no issue with the act of bringing fruit or walking outside at noon, which is why Jihyo's vehement refusal had been unwarranted. She tried to excuse herself with fake phone calls and pretend emergency assignments, but her mother was a mother for a reason. With a patient resolve she pulled Jihyo off the couch, thrust in her hands a box of twenty oranges, and pushed her out the gate.

The bright sunlight hurt Jihyo's eyes as it bounced off the road, the walls, the shiny surfaces of parked cars. Chuseok was near, after all; students had a break for the holidays and more people returned from the city. There were children running around the roads, two small girls playing a game of tag by the curbside. Jihyo walked, shielding her face with the box of fruit.

The doorbell of Nayeon's house had changed. It was once a dirty white plastic square that Jihyo always pressed three times before waiting for the gate to be opened.

That was years ago though. Jihyo pressed the dark brown doorbell once then waited.

In three minutes Jihyo heard the familiar rhythm of Nayeon's footsteps. There was something light in that recognition, surprise and perhaps relief.

There was no makeup on Nayeon's face, her expressions shifting from neutral to surprised as she opened the gate. "Oh," she said, "didn't expect to see you drop by."

Jihyo took that at face value. Her mother had a box of oranges for their family.

"Come in," said Nayeon, stepping aside to let Jihyo pass through the gate.

There was a change, somewhere. The heavy feeling was there, but not as burdensome on Jihyo's heart. It did not hurt as much to be so near.

"Grandma," said Nayeon as she went inside, "Jihyo's here with some fruit." Jihyo let her walk ahead, following inside after closing the gate.

The common room of Nayeon's home was both familiar and different: the same low table but a new TV screen, the same high ceilings that now felt smaller and mustier. Jihyo slipped off her shoes, walking barefoot on the wooden flooring. Nayeon went ahead to the dining room, and Jihyo followed her.

Nayeon's grandmother was at the kitchen chopping some cabbage, the scent of kimchi wafting from a basin at the sink. Despite her age she was strong and lively, and always spoke with a glass-like clarity. It had been years since Jihyo last saw her.

There was familiarity in the way Nayeon's face brightened at the sight of her grandmother. It lingered like sunlight. Jihyo wanted more of it.

"Oh," said the grandmother as Jihyo set the box of oranges on the common room table, "isn't this the one who broke your heart?"

Jihyo did not know what to make of what she said.

Nayeon's jaw clenched. Jihyo knew what that meant.

The silence was long enough to watch the myriad of emotions on Nayeon's face. Something had changed. How long has it been since Jihyo had recognized Nayeon's shock, disbelief, bashfulness?

Jihyo's heart stirred.

The grandmother wiped her hand on a dishcloth before greeting Jihyo at the dining area. Send her regards to the rest of the family, these oranges look fresh and vibrant, perfect for Nayeon's birthday. Did Jihyo want tteokbokki? She still had some in a tupperware, and can put cheese on top.

Nayeon excused herself, heading up to her room. The footsteps were heavy on the wooden stairs, familiar.

"How are you, Jihyo?" asked the grandmother.

"I'm not sure," she replied, honest. "I haven't seen you in so long."

"You haven't seen Nayeon either," said the grandmother. She led Jihyo to the kitchen, telling her to open the stove. "Since you left for college, correct?"

Jihyo nodded. The stove opened at the flick of a knob, blue fire in a ring. The grandmother set a small pot on it, tossing in tteokbokki from the refrigerator and stirring it with a spatula. The sweet-spiciness lingered in the air.

"You used to be so smart," said the grandmother, "saying whatever was on your mind. Now you're stuck in your own head."

Jihyo was handed a small bowl of tteokbokki, the grated cheese on top melting.

#

It was the day of Nayeon's birthday, two hours past midnight, when Jihyo dreamt about the cup of coke.

It went something like this: walking to Jihyo's home from Nayeon's, in the evening. Nayeon had not changed out of her coke-stained sweater, and Jihyo had not stopped thinking about the kiss.

"The gall!" she had said, "I couldn't watch the movie with his face in front of mine half the time."

"Gee," said Jihyo. Her shoulders had stiffened from the tenseness, her tongue heavy in her mouth. The simmering in her chest had not ceased since the kiss, and being in close proximity to Nayeon only made it worse.

"He really tried to pull a fast one, after all the effort of telling him. I should've thrown the coke down his shirt."

They were a couple of minutes away from the gate of Jihyo's house. Their footsteps were quiet, the conversation dying down. Jihyo stared at her feet as they walked, still trying to figure out what to say.

"Maybe I don't want to kiss just anyone," said Nayeon out of the blue.

Jihyo turned to her, eyes wide. It was a sentence in circles. Wasn't it? Jihyo did not know what it meant, did not understand why her heartbeat thudded in her chest.

"I mean," said Nayeon, "I wouldn't settle for someone who'd knock a cup of coke all over me." She brushed the conversation aside, then asking Jihyo about what show her family was watching that night. She left shortly after, not bothering to stay.

Jihyo sat up from her bed, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Something had changed, pieces of a puzzle clicked together. Understanding dawned on her.

It took Jihyo years to realize that she was an idiot.

Already the bubbling feeling returned as potent as before. She recognized it now, the strong longing.

#

Jihyo tried to leave the house first thing in the morning. She had to talk to Nayeon. But Jihyo's mother had other plans. Prepare the casserole, help her cook, Jihyo has been in the city for so long that she forgot how kimbap was supposed to taste like.

It was Nayeon's birthday, and a party was on the way.

Jihyo's family was not the only one invited to Nayeon's birthday; it turned out that the whole block had caught wind of Nayeon's arrival from Spain and decided to join in the celebration. As a result the tall house of her grandmother was filled to the brim with other aunts and uncles, spilling into the early evening of the neighborhood street.

Inside, Jihyo's mother had already begun mingling with the rest of the neighborhood aunts, exchanging recipes and dishes with loud chatter. The uncles had set up a table inside the gate, the familiar green bottles of fresh soju lined up like bowling pins as they shared stories of work.

As soon as Jihyo set the casserole down she looked around for Nayeon. But Jihyo's mother pulled her to the center of the gossip circle, asking her about life in the city. What was it like studying in such a prestigious university? Was it true that the city was filled with heathens who partook in premarital sex? Good think her mother raised her well then, she would make a perfect wife. One aunt took her hand and began reading her palm. Fortunate career but a love line filled with cracks and crevices.

Jihyo spotted Nayeon by the dining table, pouring various drinks into various cups. The birthday girl held the same polite distance as she made her way through the home, handing out cups to one uncle and sharing quick chatter with another aunt.

The aunt holding Jihyo's hand tugged, repeating a question that Jihyo still did not catch. Instead Jihyo excused herself, she needed to use the restroom, the aunts have been very kind to her mother while she was away.

Nayeon had turned away, setting the empty bottle of soda down.

"Nayeon," Jihyo said as she approached. The name fit in her mouth like it belonged there. It had been years.

Nayeon turned to her, eyes wide. In her hand was a cup filled with soda that emptied itself with the force of surprise.

There was a collective gasp as the soda spilled on Jihyo's blouse.

The cold surprised her as the cup of soda spilled down the torso of her knitted blouse, seeping into her pants. Already it felt sticky on her skin.

Nayeon's grandmother sent the two of them outside, Nayeon to accompany Jihyo to her house so she could change into something dry.

"I'm so sorry," said Nayeon as they left the gate, heading to Jihyo's house. "You surprised me." They walked side by side, footsteps shuffling on the asphalt. 

The sun had fully set, the cool fall air drying Jihyo’s shirt.

Nayeon walked beside her, pace measured. “Isn’t this how we used to walk? Back in high school when we were glued at the hip.”

Jihyo turned to her, really looked at her. They had made the turn to Jihyo’s house, and the street was empty. "I was an idiot."

"Huh?" Nayeon had stopped in her tracks.

"That night, with the cup of soda." Jihyo gestured to her shirt. "Not this one."

Nayeon's face blanked, realization. It was a relief to recognize Nayeon once more. "I thought you knew."

There were no circles over Nayeon's words.

Jihyo took a deep breath. Exhaled. "I didn't mean to break your heart." 

The heaviness of the past years fell away.

From silence the two of them doubled over in laughter. Their voices filled the nighttime air.

"I was such an idiot!" Nayeon laughed, walking once more. "I thought you hated me."

"I never hated you," laughed Jihyo, "I thought you pushed me away." Their steps fell in the same rhythm.

"Well, you started it, heart-breaker." The soda on Jihyo's shirt had fully dried, the gate to Jihyo's house a block away. Their footsteps sounded on the asphalt. "Haven't been to your house in a while," said Nayeon.

"We can stay," said Jihyo," make up for lost time."

"You sure?" There were no circles over Nayeon's words, Jihyo knew for sure.

"Yeah. I have the tteokbokki from the other day."

"With the cheese on top?"

"Yeah. And chocolate ice cream."

"Race you!"

Nayeon ran to the gate, Jihyo seconds behind her. Laughter trailed behind them in the night air. 


End file.
